With Relish

Jennie and Paul came to town to see Mitchell in Jesus Christ Superstar, but we managed to work in a boozy brunch, some estate sales and a little thrift shopping as well.  No surprise, but there were plenty of fabulous finds...

The book 'Cat People' is just about too much.  Published in 1977, you would recognize many of the people photographed with their cats--a young Jane Pauley, a kerchiefed Louise Nevelson, Robert Indiana, Liz Smith and more.  Accompanying each are few words from the sitter on why their cat is important to them.  Several of the women are actually given the occupation of 'homemaker.'  It is now officially on the top of one of the decorative stacks of books.*

This bottle/carafe was irresistible, with a little collar on it's neck for the hand and a double spout.  It is perfect on the table for water or perhaps this summer with a chilled rosé?

The relish tray has been gone too long from the table!  At one of the estate sales, there was a stack of relish trays high enough for me to send each of my dear readers a charming example to use while entertaining.  I limited my acquisition to two, wonderful examples.  The first has teardrop handles and a lovely swirling division; the second has geometric dividers and a beautiful fluted edge.  I'll put both to good use, I promise.

Crackers.  Crackers.  Crackers.  These plastic cracker troughs make arranging them simple; easy to serve along side your relish tray.

I do not need another set of salad servers--I have so many pair, I don't even know how many they number.  Rest assured, if you are a regular diner at my table, you probably will not see the same set twice.  This lovely set is stainless steel from Japan, diminutive and impossible to pass up.

Little jars?  With decorative lids?  And wooden spreaders?  Jennie spotted these, but was kind enough to let me claim them.  I'm not sure what I might serve in them, but I'll figure it out.  Spreads?  Condiments for sandwiches?  Or I can exchange the spreaders for little spoon and fill them with olives or something.  Do I have any little spoons?  I'll have to check.

I do not think you can have enough trivets.  Period.  I already have one similar to this design with a gold rim and a crackled glass.  Similar is not the same as matching, and whether I was making a claim for a set or diversity, I would still have gone home with it.  They're perfect for the French press, Chemex coffee pot or teapot on the table.

It's been a while since we have spotted one of these weird little banks, but we nabbed this sad puppy to add to Mitchell's collection.  The palette is so strange and happy in strong contrast to the big sad eyes of the little doggie.

 Merry Christmas.

I love Quan Yin and this petite addition to the pantheon is precious.

I had to have the small plastic statuette of the American Indian girl (top picture, far right) and she helps balance the phalanx of saints that fill the medicine cabinet in the guest bath.  I guess with the Pantry God and the small tee pee with children (bottom picture, wedged between the Virgins of Guadalupe), it's officially a collecting direction.  Plastic American Indian figurines.  Dotcom.

Finally, Jennie brought us this lovely white kitchen glass bowl with black swirlies on it as a housewarming gift.  It's perfect for the table and would good with anything in it, but especially with a few little cuties thrown in, n'est-ce pas?

* There is more than one.  "Books are awfully decorative, don't you think?"

Patience

Secondhand shopping is often a lesson in patience--and conversely providence.  Sometimes, you are gifted with something you didn't even know you needed (desired!), while other times you have a specific need and you have to wait almost forever to fulfill it.

Moving from Indiana, several treasured items were jettisoned.  It wasn't that I loved them less, but simply that their appropriateness for life as it is now being lived no longer matched.  My faux bamboo china cabinet and bar were amazing, but so large and heavy it seemed better to find a new local home for them.  Likewise, the bedroom set originally purchased in Kansas (tall boy, long dresser and nightstand) were still in alright condition, but it was quite possible their delicate legs wouldn't make another move.  So again, a local happy home was located.  But, I have been living dresser-less--for almost a year--waiting to find that next perfect one.  Luckily, my closet it large and well-organized, with lots of shelves and places to put small baskets for socks, etc.  That is all behind me now, as the new dresser has been found!  With a single matching nightstand.  Both have clean and classic mid-century lines and are from Drexel, so you know they are well made.  They have white porcelain pulls which, with the simple design, are like pearls with a simple black dress: just the right about of pop.

Of course, this wonderful (life-changing!) find only made me hungry for more!  After meeting some friends for brunch, I popped into Dress Up's to see what they might have.  It was warm.  Very warm since they have no HVAC!  But, breezing through the store quickly yielded a couple of treasures at deep discounts:

A lovely little white and gold dish from Georges Briard.  It looks perfect on the new dresser.

Three, black lotus bowls.  Now reader, you know how I am about my little lotus bowls!  I can pass up a white one faster than you can say 'fried rice,' but I cannot resist a colored one.  I just won't make myself.  With another little yellow one picked up by M a month or so ago, I think that brings the total to twenty-five.  I think.  It's sad, because most of my lovelies are still packed away.  There is some room in the cupboards, but without a giant china cabinet or other display, it's easier just to leave them in boxes.  Likewise, I'm still searching for a bar to show off (and use!) all of my fantastic bar ware.  Don't worry, when I'm missing them I get a box of tissue out and scroll through some old post on MTSS. 

As a bonus, I found a note behind the drawer of the nightstand, a dream written quickly and ripped from a spiral notebook:

"I dreamed Allen came back to Midland and came over.  We talked for a few minutes and then he took my hand and said something like, 'come on, let's go--I wanna catch up on what I have been missing.'  I said, 'Allen, I haven't done anything like that since you left.' He said, 'I know (in that weird voice.)' I asked somebody--Nancy probably, what she thought about it.  She said I shouldn't put with it--I should tell him to go to hell.  By the way, he looked just like he used to."

Spooooky...

Slide to the Left for a While...

Dearest reader, I don't want to come off as sounding...how do I say?...superior, but you do know what a slide is, don't you? I don't mean a PowerPoint slide, but a real, actual physical slide? A special type of film developed and sandwiched between pieces of glass or plastic, them inserted into a slide projector in order to enlarge the image? Is this sounding familiar at all?

Before the advent of the digital, people used slides in a variety of ways. Do you remember that art history class you slept through freshmen year? Come on, the one with the slightly peculiar professor in which you barely pulled a C? Yes, that one! The professor was using slides to project all of those images onto the screen. Most likely, your school had a slide library and said peculiar professor would go the library and pull the images they wanted from drawers filled with hundreds of slides of works of art, each turning a rosy pink as they aged. If said peculiar professor didn't find an image they were looking for, they brought a book to the library and noted the images they wanted with a sticky note. An underpaid graduate student would use a copy stand to shoot the pages in the book with a camera (Copyright? We don't know nothing about no copyright.); develop the film; cut the film into individual images; crop the film with special silver tape so that only the images was seen and not all of the gobbly-gook text around it; mount the images on a slide; seal and label said slide; then mark the 'front' of the slide with a special red dot so that once inserted into the carousel, the slightly peculiar professor would be able to see all of their slides were loaded correctly. Who would take such a job? Moi. Mais oui.

And you, just sleeping right through that scintillating lecture on Merovigian fibulas had no idea of, or consideration for, all of the work that was done to make sure the image shown to you was updated, straight and oriented in the right direction. It was an art; an art lost completely with the birth of the digital. And you had no clue, no thought or knowledge or respect for the art or process. None at all. Barbarians!

Apologies; this wasn't supposed to be the slide librarians lament, it just all of that droll, meaningless work came rushing back. Slides were also used by civilians, especially in the mid-20th century. People took images on their vacation or other special events and then, usually with the ruse of dinner or drinks, subjected their soon-to-be-ex friends to hours of inane narration to accompany their images projected on the wall. Kind of like a blog, but in person...

BUT, since this was pre-PowerPoint where you can now arrange a slide or image with any whim, how did they make sure their slides were in order? (Finally, to the point.) Slide sorters! Now, if you're a fancy, scmancy art history professor, you had a large light table on which to arrange and rearrange your images in order to craft and build your lecture into something your students will be thrilled to hear in a dark room at 8 a.m. But, the average joe? Personal slide sorters!

These little objets are pretty amazing: most have no switch or button, you just place the slide in the sorter and a light comes on automatically, illuminating the image. No, they don't make the Mona Lisa six feet tall, but they did their job...and looked fabulous while doing so! The names and logos are fantastic, plus the shapes are like a 1950s Cadilac in miniature. I love them and want them all. I have one that belonged to my parents, plus a couple of others picked up along the way--including a recent addition from an estate sale. All fantastic, sexy little things...I even included some bootie shots for all of you über art history nerds out there.

Fab Finds

With travel for work, hither and yon, I hadn't been to the thrift stores in Midland for a few weeks, so I thought this weekend was a great opportunity to see what might have appeared since I had last shopped. And dear reader, guess what? There was quite a bit...

The first couple of stops yielded nothing. I mean, if I had been shopping for white, ceramic cats then it would have been the mother lode, but I think that is even beyond my kitschy sensibilities. However, at Trade-n-Treasures, I came across one of my favorite things: a lovely faux sea shell. (More on my faux shell obsession here, here, here and here.) Of course, someone had filled it with flower arranging foam and the most hideous plastic flowers you have ever seen, but I just ripped those right out and stuffed them into another pot. No reason to take them home! Plus, I'm sure a lot of people wouldn't think they were as hideous as I did. They would be wrong, but to each their own.

Of course, I had just rearranged the salon table a week or so ago, bringing my small collection of faux shells to the forefront with the addition of some stones and gems. The effect evokes an essence I would consider to be a la Jung, meaning 'in the style of Jung' as in my friend, sister in thrift and the muse of MTSS, Stephanie Jung.* While arranging them, I thought, "I could really use a couple of more major faux shells to make this really come together." Ask and ye shall receive; thrift and ye shall find.

The next find is a little hard to describe: a pretzel-style lucite and silver candlerabra? Whatever you call it, be sure you use the word 'fabulous' as part of the adjectives. This is one of those odd, special, fabulous, mod early-70s accessories that can mix in anywhere. Really. The problem is that I have a box of candlesticks, inherited and purchased, that I rarely use. But, this was on sale and I could not resist its unique quality. A real conversation piece.  However, sometimes I think my house is so full of conversation pieces that they are all yelling at each other!

The next stop was Dress Up's, but Miss Dress Up wasn't present. Instead, I was manically greeted by who I can only assume is Miss Dress Up, Jr. and her two children. There were lots of lovely things to be had, including a very charming, yet over-priced bar, which MDU, Jr. kept telling me locked and included a key--as though a locking liquor cabinet was the most important aspect to consider! There were a couple of items I could not resist, the first being the diminutive plates above. I love tiny bowls, little plates or any sort of Lilliputian dishes, so I had to have them even though they hadn't reached a discount yet. I had to have them. I'm sure I will find some specific and satisfying use for them.

Finally, the strangest find of the day was this clown art. Now, we already talked about white, ceramic cats being beyond my aesthetic sensibilities and I'm sure you probably have the talent to take an arrangement of clown pictures and make them look quit chic. But reader, as fond as I am of sending photos of clown finds to my friend Jessie who is absolutely terrified of clowns, I don't usually purchase them. This, however, isn't just a clown picture. No, do not be deceived; this is a music box and the nose is the handle! It does work and plays a rather maudlin rendition of 'Send in the Clowns.' I could not resist it and had to have it. Where will it go? I'm not sure, but its existence amuses me and owning it amuses me even more. So, I've included a little video for your enjoyment:

 

That, my friends, is a good day of thrifting if I do say so myself...

*For those new to MTSS, it was actually started as a paper zine after I moved to Wichita, KS and was missing thrifting with my friend.  I started drawing my finds and including musing on thrifting, which I sent to several friends.  But, they were created with the intention of both amusing Stephanie and keeping her up-to-date on my thrifting adventures.  Eventually, it became a blog which was a helluva lot easier to manage.  That was eight years ago.  I still don't have a book deal, but I am still blogging, amusing myself and keeping her, and you, updated on all my fab finds.

Won't Stop, Can't Stop

Darlings, you know I can never stop. It isn't the things, but the hunt, that drives me. The thrill of the find! But you all know that, so I am preaching to the hunters. The past week had been pretty long and the week prior I had been traveling, so I was looking forward to some thrift therapy on Saturday. Even though I got a late start, there was still an array of wonderful things. And no matter how full the cupboards are, how stuffed the shelves are or how many things currently live in boxes, there will always be something I can't resist...

Dishes. My weakness. Even though I don't care for the color, I swooned when I spotted these amazing dishes by Ben Seibel for Raymor. I didn't buy them, even though I should have bought them and resold them or something. That just isn't how I thrift, but with the bounty of West Texas thrift, I may have to change my plan.

I loved this chip and dip and candelabra! What a unique, and challenging, serving piece. Late in the evening you would have to be careful not to burn yourself as you reached over the burning candle for some spinach dip.

This Pyrex cheese cracker tray was difficult to pass over, especially with the new cheese knives I recently purchased...

Apparently they always have an array of beautiful glass at Trade-n-Treasures, but Saturday it was even more splendiferous. I found myself thinking of my friend Michael in Chicago and his amazing collection of glass, wondering which of these pieces he would try and carryon if he were visiting? Thoughts?

Faux. You know how much I love faux. And faux shells? Reader, it was so hard not to buy these. I mean, I could find a place for them, of course. And I have been having visions of my a mantle covered in faux shells as my collection grows...but....still...I passed. Sigh.

This punch bowl was more than I want to pay, but a GEORGES BRIARD punch bowl?!? I love Briard and some of us never stopped serving punch, but I would also have to find all new punch cups. And also sell my current bowl, which is quite amazing and on a stand. Having TWO punch bowls is just ridiculous, right? Curiously, the image was printed on the interior, so the signature was reverse.

I did take home this little log planter. We have one or two already, so a small collection. Plus, succulents look very cool planted in them. I couldn't say no.

Lastly, this set of eight owl glasses was hiding on a shelf at Tradarama, covered in dust. Otherwise, the gold was in perfect shape and I couldn't pass them up. I don't really need more glasses that can't go in the dishwasher, but I bought them anyway. Perhaps they'll be a gift for someone else.

After running a few errands, I got home and did few things around the house, including unpacking the finds. After a while, I gathered up my stuff and returned to the store to buy those blasted shells. I couldn't stop thinking about them and was just glad they were still there!

White Away

I used to think plain, white dishes were just boring. I would never look at anything at the thrift store that was just plain white. I wanted bright colors, atomic patterns, coordinated (but not matching) serving pieces and a mix of everything. And I have that and it's really funny, because even when I try to do an 'eclectic' table, it all seems to coordinate and vibrate in some unconscious, magical way. But then one day, I reversed my stance on white dishes and I began to be kind of be obsessed with them.

I remember it well: it was the day I found the Schonwald--such a magical moment it inspired a drawing and a poem. The dishes are simple, gorgeous and have a heft that make them amazing to hold. I have four pieces in an ovoid shape: large and small serving bowls, platter and sauce boat. And after that, I began to look at white differently and to find pieces that were unique in treatment, shape and design. Some are pedigreed, others are not. But, what it means is that I can easily mix in serving pieces with any of my chinas (the family grows) and simply coordinate a table.

But, what worries me is that guests think my lovelies are "just a white bowl from the restaurant collection at Kohl's or Macy's." They're not. They're vintage, gorgeous and special and I assume those who know me well realize that. But, I was thinking about the whole farm-to-table phenomenon the other day and how you can't just have an egg anymore, rather a Meadows Farm of Happy Chickens Egg. What if I did that at parties and made little cards that read, House-made French Onion Dip with Expensive Potato Chips served in White Porcelain Bowls from Schonwald, Germany. Affected? Well, of course.

Anyways, here is a parade of the white dishes including the last super-find from Russel Wright. Enjoy.

The Schonwald gravy boat, with attached under plate.
It has made multiple appearances, here at MTSS.

These two bowls make me believe I am
a shaman and can work magic in the kitchen.

The platter is simple, with just a slightly turned up edge.

Altogether now.

This plain, white lotus bowl probably came from Pier 1,
but as it's the largest in the collection and the only white one,
it is the Queen of Lotus Bowls in this household.

Yes, you can find Paul McCobb's Contempri all tarted up with various patterns, atomic and otherwise, adorning it. But, the plain white example has been stalking me across the country for years and evidenced here and here.

Eva Zeisel. What can you say? These simple white bowls could be used in a Sci-fi film today, decades after they were made, and still conjure 'the future' in the mind of the viewer.

Ben Seibel's Impromptu line says it all, simple and elegant;
always ready to entertain or to be entertained.

This Russel Wright divided bowl says to me,
"Fill half of me with pretzel M&Ms and the other half with plain M&Ms." What does it say to you?

Oh, How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Gravy Boats...

(A Manic Thrift Store Shopper/bigYELLOWbowl crossover post.)

Let's face it, I have a very acute case of dishmorphia. When I'm shopping at the thrift store or home store or wherever, I see something and think, "okay, I absolutely need ten of those." When in reality I already have twenty of them at home. Small dishes? Check. Chopsticks? Check. Asian soup spoons? I think we all learned our lesson about that last week. I really do have twenty-four more Asian soup spoons on their way to me as I type.

But perhaps the most ridiculous? Gravy boats.

First of all, how many gravy boats does a vegetarian need? Sure, there are lots of great vegetarian gravies or sauces out there. Case in point, the amazing gravy Jimmy made for our New Year's Day breakfast. But, how often do I actually serve gravy? On a very rare and special occasion, it's true. Raise your hand if you have been served gravy or sauce from a gravy boat at my house?

But when I was growing up, gravy was just something you always had. It went over the meat, it went on the potatoes, it went over the chicken and it went on the biscuits. Sometimes, it just went on torn up pieces of bread which I loved and always thought of as a special treat. We always had gravy. It was so important that when Barbara made crispy fried chicken, she would also pan fry some chicken in order to have the drippings necessary for gravy. And she still does.

How many gravy boats did my mother have? Only one that I can remember.

But, when it's 2010 and you're whipping up a curry, pasta or bowl of Asian noodles for dinner, you don't really need a gravy boat. So why do I have six? That's right, I have six different gravy boats. Six, different, beautiful and elegant gravy boats--each a star in their own right.

So, how does this happen? I'll walk your through it.

Well, I'm at the thrift store and I find a gravy boat (above) that is lovely and different. It's Sango and I'm a total bitch for Sango. I have a couple of plates and a set of eight, very low bowls in red. I'm pretty sure that Sango made nothing that was cute after 1968, but before that: LOVE-ly. Love it all.

So I find this gravy boat (above) and it's lovely and in perfect shape. It doesn't really have a handle, just a small indention at the back to slip a thumb in as your gingerly pour gravy (or sauce) onto whatever it is you are gravy-ing (or saucing). It's different. It's unique. I'm already hooked, but I think to myself, "You know, you don't really have a nice, simple gravy boat in the cupboard. This is really a useful piece and you really need one."

Say what?

It's like this: I look at my china cabinet, my sideboard, my front closet filled with Pyrex and my bedroom closet filled with china and I think, "I don't have ANY dishes. Nothing fun or interesting. It's a wasteland!" And you are looking at the same china cabinet, sideboard, front closet filled with Pyrex and bedroom closet filled with china and probably thinking one of three things:

1. He is crazy.
2. Is there a shortage in the China mines? Are the Pyrex trees drying up? Did a blight take out the tiny dish fields this season?
3. Maybe he is opening up a store.

I have dishmorphia. Pure and simple. There isn't a cure. I mean, there isn't a cure I'm willing to participate in. Intervention? Try it. I'll be out of the hotel suite and in the nearest thrift store before you can say, "We've all written letters about how your shopping and dishmorphia affect us."

But, I will walk you through the collection:

This gravy boat is très important because it is what began the Temporama madness--I mean Temporama collection! I found it at the DAV on Douglas in Wichita, KS and said to myself, "Someday I will have a china cabinet full of this amazing pattern." I didn't even know at that point there was a separate under plate in a lovely robin's egg blue that accents all this amazing china. If I had, I probably would have dropped to my knees at that very moment and sworn a lifetime of allegiance.

I was visiting my friends Susan in Dallas, TX and she offered me some colors and duplicates from her Russel Wright collection. I love the streamlined nature of this gravy boat and its amazing ergonomic form. Ergonomic before it was cool! It is a little crazed, but I could still never part with it.

This odd specimen has an attached under plate and was produced by Tamac Pottery in Perry, OK. This color is called 'frosty fudge' and while it isn't my favorite in their line, the loose organic shape makes up for the fact it is not avocado. No matter how strong I will it.

This lovely little gravy boat with the Aladdin's lamp handle and separate under plate is part of the collection of Metlox Shore Line started by a gift from the playwright and actress Helena Hale on one of her trips to Wichita, KS. It would do her memory a disservice were I ever to part with it.

Finally, an example from Schonwald in white, German porcelain. The under plate is attached and I also have a large serving bowl, a small serving bowl and a platter in this same ovoid shape. How could I break them up?

See? All six are necessary and important.

Collections & What To Do With Them

So, you find something cool while you're shopping at the thrift store. And you buy it. Mesmerized by it's unique beauty.

Then a while later, you find another one and you buy it, thinking, "it's so neat to have two of those things." You keep shopping and a third one pops up and then you have a collection. And it grows. And your aunt notices, so she starts shopping for those things for you too. She also mentions it to your mom. Soon, you have TONS of those really cool things that you used to just have one of. What do you do with them?

If those cool things are dishes, you find the most awesome china cabinet you can and fill it with the beautiful objects until it is just bursting! Of course, you can't just put dishes in it, so you also include cute figurines. Or little statues of snails because they are so hot right now and it seems so incongruous to find them in a china cabinet. Then you even start putting beautiful objects on top of it. And people start to look at you a little sideways. But, you don't mind because it's your collection and looking at it helps you stay grounded. It makes you happy. It keeps you real.

But, what if those things aren't dishes? Or radios. Or books that can sit around in a cool pile with a vintage cast-iron library book press decorated with dolphins in front of it.

What if those things sit around and begin to gather dust. And pile up. And take over! What do you do then?

You hang those bitches on the wall. That's right, you heard me. YOU HANG THOSE BITCHES ON THE WALL. Everything looks better hanging on the wall. It says, "Look at me, I'm special." Hanging thing on the wall elevates the object to a much higher and more interesting thing. Think about Carl Andre.

Do you even know who Carl Andre is? Of course you don't, because he made art that goes on the floor. On the floor! And he even murdered his wife (Ana Mendieta) who was also an artist, but didn't go to jail. And you still don't know who he is. Now do you know who Vincent Van Gogh is, right? Of course you do, because he made art that goes on the wall. Like you are supposed to. Where people want to see it.

How do you hang things on the wall? Nails are nice. Screws and tape work too. Or a shelf. You could use a small decorative shelf. Plate hangers that adhere to the back of things are also awesome. And made in England where they know about hanging crap on the wall. They practically invented hanging things on the wall! Although some revisionist historians are now claiming it was the Chinese.

So, what is sitting around that you could hang on the wall? Huh? Do it.